The End
by dark-renegade-angel
Summary: Multi chapter AU based on episode 5x04. (Trigger warnings apply.) 'A fallen angel and a broken man, standing together at the end of the world.'
1. Chapter 1

_"This is the end, beautiful friend,_  
_This is the end, my only friend, the end,_  
_Of our elaborate plans, the end,_  
_Of everything that stands, the end,_  
_No safety or surprise, the end,_  
_I'll never look into your eyes, again,"_

**_The End- The Doors._**

* * *

**_Cas stopped mid-sentence, freezing where he stood. Dean looked back at him, over his shoulder, and frowned in confusion. "...Cas? What's wrong?" His tone sharpened as he took in the look of terror the angel's face. Castiel didn't respond. He trembled, staring fixedly at the ground. Dean moved towards him warily. "Cas?" he reiterated. Castiel shivered, and lifted his head, fixing Dean with a look of pure horror, cerulean eyes wide. _**

**_He opened his mouth as if to say something. Instead, a raw, choking cough escaped him. He brought a shaking hand to his lips, and brought it away bloody. Without warning, he coughed again, and bent over, choking violently. Dean looked on in horror as more blood cascaded from his mouth, pouring to the ground._****_ Dean's blood ran cold. "Cas!" Without warning, Castiel's knees buckled, and he collapsed. Dean dashed forwards in alarm, catching the angel against his chest as he fell. "Cas?!" He lowered him gently to the ground, kneeling over his body. Cas was unresponsive, eyes unfocused, thick streams of crimson leaking from his mouth, nose and ears. Dean held him in his arms as the angel stared unseeingly up at the sky. "No...no...NO..no, no, no, no.." Cas murmured brokenly, mind clearly elsewhere. He began to whimper, his entire frame shaking in agony._**

**_"Cas? Come on man, snap out of it. Cas?! Castiel!" Dean begged. "What's happening?!" He shouted to Chuck as the prophet dashed to his side. Chuck scrutinised the angel, before biting his lip in resignation. "Dean...it's happening. It's starting." He stated quietly, avoiding Dean's eyes. Dean shook his head in bewilderment, not following. "Chuck, what are you talking about? What's starting?" Chuck frowned, trying to keep his voice steady. "The angels left...so Cas's grace is tearing itself apart. He's falling, Dean."_**

* * *

Cas woke to the sound of the convoy returning. Sighing, he freed himself from the limp arms around his waist, glancing down to check who they belonged to...not that it really mattered. Julian was still completely out of it. Cas didn't blame him- it usually took people a while to recover from a night with him. He turned and stood, the semi comatose man forgotten already. Cas pulled on the clothes which were lying in a heap on the floor, and grabbed a bottle of whisky off of the nightstand, before exiting the cabin. Following the gathering crowd, he zigzagged his way down to meet the returning party. The jeeps and trucks making up the convoy came to a halt, and their passengers piled out, immediately beginning to unload the supplies from the trunks. Cas watched them with an air of detachment. He lifted the bottle and took a long sip of the whisky, before looking back- his gaze searching. Of course, he was only interested in one person. Dean.

Dean climbed out of his truck, looking around to make sure everyone was unloading properly. He assessed his group, making sure nobody was missing or injured. Or worse. Infected. After confirming they weren't, he made his way towards the armoury, lugging along a heavy bag of ammunition they'd found on the raid. He stilled and looked up, sensing eyes on him. Sure enough, Cas was watching closely, making sure he was unharmed. Their eyes met, and locked. Dean forced his face to remain impassive, uncaring; cold. He saw Cas flinch slightly, before covering it up, fixing him with a wry smirk. Raising his bottle, the fallen angel took a long sip of whisky, still staring at him contemplatively. He lowered it, giving him a mock salute, before turning and walking away.

* * *

"Nice of you to join us." Dean glared at Cas as he swaggered into the tent- late, as usual. Cas rolled his eyes, taking a seat and kicking his boots up onto the table. "My apologies, Fearless Leader. Please, do continue." Dean took a deep breath, returning his attention to the rest of the group. "Uh, Dean? " Chuck moved forward, tentatively. Since the angels had abandoned the Earth, Chuck was no longer a prophet. He took care of the logistics of the camp, counting supplies, alerting Dean as to what they needed. Dean nodded, motioning for him to talk. As Chuck began rambling to the group about toilet paper shortages, Dean allowed his eyes to travel across to where Cas was sitting, watching Chuck with glazed eyes and a vacant expression. He still wasn't sure how it had happened. How he had allowed it to happen. How naïve, curt, devoted Castiel; heavenly warrior and Angel of Thursday, had become...what he was now. Pessimistic, hedonistic, cynical Cas; camp whore and resident addict.

The renegade's red-rimmed eyes met his. Those bright blue orbs had once held the power to render him speechless. They could root him to the spot, and leave him transfixed as they stared right into the depths of his soul. They had blazed with fire and determination. They were still unearthly. Still so, so beautiful. But their intensity had long been dulled by pain. Drugs. Tears. They were unfocused and bloodshot. Now, they glared, and betrayed the state of Cas's newly acquired soul. Defeated. Lost. Broken. Dean felt a lump form in his throat, as he held Cas's desolate gaze, forcing himself to stare right into those condemning blue eyes. Cas had been his best friend. His anchor. His angel. He had given it all for Dean. Everything he had. Everything he _was_, and more. And now, they could barely even speak without arguing. Dean swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat, and looked back at Chuck, nodding attentively. No one had noticed his distraction. No one but Castiel.


	2. Chapter 2

Cas was the first one out of the cabin once the meeting was over. He swung his feet off the table and left, pretending he couldn't feel Dean watching him. He'd seen that look in Dean's eyes. Pity, anger, pain. Sadness, worry, despair. Disappointment...mild disgust. Even after almost five years, that _one_ look alone still held the power to cut through his façade like a knife; hurting him like little else could. Castiel couldn't allow Dean to see how much it crushed him. He _would not_ let Dean see him so vulnerable. No. Dean needed a constant. A strong right hand he could rely on. He didn't need a broken, depressed ex-angel. He didn't need to worry about Cas's mental state, in addition to everything else. He was stressed enough himself, as it was. So Castiel hurried from the cabin, wanting to escape before his expression could give him away.

Stumbling out into the cold November morning, Cas leaned forwards against the wooden railings of the cabin's porch, reaching into his back pocket for a lighter and a pack of cigarettes. His hands shook as he lit one. He brought it to his lips, inhaling deeply, desperately trying to compose himself. He held it in, before releasing the smoke, watching it curl upwards into the glacial air. He looked out across the lake. It had begun to rain, heavily. The sky was darkened by storm clouds, giving the illusion of night even though it was mid-morning.

The others began to trickle out of the meeting cabin, moving past him to descend the front steps. He nodded to a few of them, trying to appear casual and indifferent, as always. Cas tensed as he heard Dean emerge, shutting the door behind him. He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, taking periodic drags on his cigarette, attempting to appear inaccessible. He could sense Dean standing behind him. _'Just walk away, Dean. Please_.' He silently urged.

Dean stood uncertainly behind Castiel, wildly searching his brain for something meaningful to say. The moment dragged on. Cas held his breath. In his peripheral vision, he watched Dean begin to move towards the steps, and was momentarily relieved. But Dean hesitated, stopping, and turned to face him. _'Shit.' _Cas cursed, mentally, before shifting against the railing, angling his body towards his companion. He fixed a disinterested, mildly insolent expression onto his face, looking into Dean's tired eyes. Castiel raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Dean." Dean sighed as Cas turned towards him with a guarded expression on his face, defences up already. _'He doesn't trust me anymore,'_ Dean lamented with a dull pang of regret. Not that he could really blame him. The fallen angel was only trying to protect himself from further pain. "Cas...we need to talk." Cas looked back at Dean vaguely, feigning ignorance. "Talk?" He absently extinguished his cigarette on his own arm, barely wincing as his skin burned, all the time maintaining eye contact with Dean. Dean flinched as he watched Cas burn himself. What hurt the most, was seeing how the fallen angel barely even reacted to the pain. Knowing that against Cas's threshold, that it barely even registered. "Cas! What the hell are you doing?!"

Cas shrugged, looking bored. "Well, the cabin's made of wood. I didn't want to start a fire. Even if it is raining." He murmured, supposedly rationalizing his actions, in his own mind. Dean bit his lip, unsettled by the blasé explanation. Cas was even more far gone than he'd thought. His sense of self-worth was virtually non existent. It was like he didn't care about himself at all. It was agonising for Dean to see his friend- no, that wasn't right- Cas was so much more than a _friend._ It hurt to see his..._Cas_, fallen so far, in so many ways. And all because of him.

'Dammit, Cas." He muttered, reaching out and gently taking the ex-angel's arm in his hands. Cas flinched and tried to pull away, but Dean held on and shot him a pleading look. After a moment of hesitation, Cas relaxed and allowed Dean to pull his arm closer.

He lifted it up, holding it close to his face, and carefully inspected the new burn. Luckily, it wasn't too severe. The other burns on his arms were worse. Along with those, countless scars crisscrossed the delicate skin of Castiel's forearms. Dean turned his arm slowly until the rough palms faced upwards. He held Cas's wrists in a gentle but firm grip, and brushing his thumbs gently over the two deepest scars- the jagged slashes which mirrored each other, running across each of Cas's forearms, elbow to wrist. Dean swallowed thickly at the memory of finding Cas that day, three years ago in 2011.

**/blood...there'd been _so much_ blood.../**

Wait. Were those...? He inhaled, sharply, his grip tightening. He'd known Cas was drinking heavily- Cas could now outdrink even him, and he'd had years of alcohol abuse to build up his tolerance. He'd also known Cas was doing drugs- assorted pills, painkillers, a shit-ton of marijuana, even acid. But where those...?

They were.

Track marks.

"Cas... what happened to you?" He asked quietly. The unexpected question startled Cas. He pulled his wrists out of Dean's reach, and sighed helplessly, at a loss. "What do you want me to tell you, Dean?" Cas' voice shook, and he swallowed, looking away, out across the lake. "You want to know what happened to me?" He turned back to face Dean, his reason to live, and fixed him with a hollow stare. "Life. You." Dean looked into Cas's deep blue eyes for a full minute, expression pained. "I'm so sorry, Cas." Cas shrugged sadly. "Yeah, Dean. I know."

They were interrupted by the crunch of boots on leaves, signifying someone approaching. They both turned their heads, looking towards the bend in the path where the footsteps were coming from, steadily getting louder. Alex rounded the corner, appearing in their line of sight. He nodded to Dean and Cas before walking past them, continuing his patrol, MP5 submachine gun gripped tightly in his hands.


End file.
